


Kismet

by Gracerevealed



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jonerys Secret Santa, Jonerys Secret Santa 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:40:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22041970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gracerevealed/pseuds/Gracerevealed
Summary: This was done as a Jonerys Secret Santa fic based on a mashup of 2 prompts.Summary: Daenerys has traveled covertly into the mysterious independent Northern kingdom. While there, she finds herself running into a mysterious young man whom she feels a strange but compelling connection with.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 40
Kudos: 70





	Kismet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ricknmaklan](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Ricknmaklan).



> Unbetad. Any mistakes are my own.
> 
> Prompt Mash-up:
> 
> “Under Jon’s government, the North has grown as powerful as Dany’s armies and dragons. They have giants who can throw spears as big as the Scorpions, mammoths, strange explosive weapons offered by the Children of the forest after the NK was ended, etc. In short, they have as much magic as she does.”
> 
> “Dany is moving north peacefully to negotiate. During her journey, she enjoys to put on simple clothes to blend in the population with Missi, Grey Worm and Jorah and try to get to know the northerners before she arrives at Winterfell. But she keeps running into this mysterious young man everybody seems to love and who leaves an awkward sensation in her stomach.”
> 
> Edited - 1/1/2020 to remove glaring errors and improve upon consistency and flow.

Daenerys sat at the farthest corner of the inn and gently peeled back the soft, sapphire blue material of her hood, silently taking in the specter of the patrons around her. She’d only had a moment to glance at her reflection in passing to confirm, yes - the dye had held, her hair still remained a muted shade of black - before jumping on the back of Rhaegal with Grey Worm, and beginning her now familiar sojourn into the heart of the North Kingdom’s territory. 

Her first trip from Dragonstone and across enemy borders had been a simple matter of strategy; reconnaissance to gather any information she and her handful of men might be able to glean from this fabled corner of her father’s usurped kingdom. Even from as far away as Essos, the Northmen had been whispered to be strange folk, with stranger ways (magic users if the tales were to be believed). Much of her council had argued against the notion of her joining the scouting party to infiltrate the unfamiliar land, but Daenerys had insisted that it was her duty as the leader of her people to be first in line to shoulder such a venture - dangerous though it was. They needed to suss out fact from myth while also looking for weak points in the Northern countries’ defenses. The sooner, the better.

She had breached the unusual land’s borders ten times since that first attempt, and the last five had been without any accompaniment from her guards, save Grey Worm, who remained in the shadows to keep watch and protect her from afar. Daenerys had initially wanted to take at least one trip into the North by herself, but eventually compromised after much insistence from her councilors... (and also because she knew Grey Worm to be as discreet as he was deadly).

Before Daenerys could turn to leave, Missandei had grasped her arm and swept deft fingers across the loose tendrils of her dark plaited hair with her free hand. It was a touch borne of a familiarity unshared with any other in her camp, and she allowed it because it reminded her of another. Of a time long ago in place with a lemon tree and a red door, and a woman who smelled like fresh spices that would always run her fingers through Daenerys’ baby fine white hair.

“I know what you seek,” her friend had said softly, brown eyes gazing knowingly at the unlined mask of Daenerys’ face. “Please be careful.” Somehow the other woman’s statement ended on a note that made her words sound more like a question rather than the forceful declaration she knew it was meant to be.

Daenerys felt her demeanor soften, knowing that Missandei’s words were motivated both by the love she bore her and the love she held for the man who had tasked himself to protect her always.

The young Queen stepped into the other woman’s space and gently eased her arm out of Missandei’s grip, sliding her palm into her friend’s hand, then squeezed.

“I’ll be back soon,” she had promised.

A young woman with a well worn apron and dark curling hair that poked out messily from a clean white cap stood over her and asked if she’d be having any drink or food, breaking her momentary reverie.

Daenerys offered a measured stare and said cooly, “I’ll have the  _Krydet_ please.”

The woman gave a warm crooked tooth smile and hummed a soft, reproachful tutting sound. “That’s _Kry_ **dret** my dear.” She hummed again, and the warmth of her smile transferred amiably to her eyes. “Not from around here are you lassie.” Daenerys felt her cheeks warm at the correction, but before she could say anything in her defense, the woman winked conspiratorially at her and said, “You’ll hear naught again about it from me. Anyway, it’ll be ready in a scant few.” The bar maid turned to leave, but paused sharply before adding over her shoulder, “Any food while you wait. We have the freshest bread in the entire kingdom.”

“No thank you,” Daenerys said quietly, her eyes shifting surreptitiously around her, wondering if anyone else had overhead their exchange. The last thing she needed was for one of the Northerners in the inn to start asking bothersome questions about her origins or the reason for her mispronunciation of a fairly commonly used word.

She was on her third pint of spiced wine when the door suddenly burst open, allowing a cold draft and a few flakes of snow to sweep through the warm tavern. A band of new comers, one hooded (enough so as to keep his face hidden), another two holding stringed instruments and another: a tiny female, brown skinned and eerily beautiful, entered the inn. The tiny person seemed to be the only woman among them, and she marched straight to a seat not too far from Daenerys, hailing a maid over and entreating the woman for a drink. 

Daenerys had been a wife, and very briefly - a mother, and more than that - a Queen, but she was also still only a young girl, and she couldn’t help the bubble of excitement that began to rise in her stomach as she realized that the tiny woman sitting less than a hundred feet from her was no ordinary person at all. As the small woman gracefully removed her fur lined cloak while speaking in light lilting tones, curly green hair tumbled past her delicate shoulders, and Daenerys knew that she was looking at a Child of the Forrest. There was a ripple of movement in the shadows furthest away from Daenerys’ right, and she was sure that Grey Worm had taken notice of this development as well from where he covertly watched over her.

The two men with instruments whom the Child had come in with, greeted the owner of the inn warmly, as if they were old friends. One threw his cloak off and sat it on the bar top before tuning the instrument he held, and then strumming a few lively notes. Seconds later, he began to hum a catchy tune to go along with the music he played.

Daenerys’ attention had been divided by the four who had entered the inn, but now it was focused solely on the cloaked man as he stepped further into the room, stopping momentarily in front of the tiny woman to exchange a few unintelligible words before making his way off into the back and disappearing. For a few encouraging moments, Daenerys had thought that the stranger was the man she’d left Dragonstone hoping to run into, but when he’d stayed gone in the minutes and hours that passed as she sat there, her hope was quickly replaced by mounting disappointment.

A few more patrons - locals from the look and sound of their Northern brogue - entered the inn in the interim of the other man’s absence, and before long, there was riotous laughing coupled with loud banter and frolicking in the once quiet establishment.

Most of everyone who had been sitting before were now on their feet, tapping their heels and clapping rhythmically as they danced in time with the music the two men played. 

In spite of herself, Daenerys was also subtly nodding her head along to the lovely verses and smiling in a way that she hadn’t since... well. Since she’d last come North and seen  _him_. In the times they’d crossed paths during her ventures as a faux commoner of the North, he’d laughed with her, listened to her, advised her, and even kissed her. It had felt good to pretend to be someone else, and better still to have a man stare at her and see her for more than the titles she held.

The memory of the strange man with his comely face, thoughtful eyes, and reluctant smile forcefully brought her back to herself and away from the trance that the merriment in the now crowded inn had momentarily sucked her into. Daenerys took a final quick scan of the room, and swallowing another sobering mouthful of disappointment, raised her hood and prepared herself to leave. If she were being honest with herself, she had already stayed for far too long. If she were being brutally honest with herself, she should have never left Dragonstone to begin with. The risk of discovery and potential disaster as a result of that discovery for what amounted to a chance encounter with a man she barely knew, was foolhardy at best and selfish at worst. She had an entire host of people depending on her.

_Mhysa_.

The word rang whisper soft in her head as she abruptly stood from her seat and tied the ribbon of her cloak loosely beneath her chin, preparing to leave. 

Daenerys shuffled as unobtrusively as she could through the room and was almost at the door when a large hand grabbed gently at her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

She had already begun to pull away from the stranger’s grip when she looked up at the owner of the hand that had halted her movements. Daenerys’ breath caught in her throat as she peered up at now familiar grayish purple eyes attractively placed in a familiar unlined face. All at once she stopped struggling, frozen by her surprise, and swallowed hard.

“ _You_ ,” she breathed.

He moved his arm to loop lightly around the small of her back, and said with just the barest hint of a smile.

“Me,” he agreed pleasantly. The fresh Northern air clung to the many layers of his heavy black clothing, and his breath smelled like pine and honeysuckle when he spoke. How she longed to get closer to him and taste the sweet smell of that singular word on her lips.

What she did instead was take a tiny step back while bracing a palm against his chest. She needed that small distance to think properly. 

“Why is it that wherever I go,” her eyes narrowed slightly then. “You always seem to show up,” she finished (only once she was able to regain a modicum of control over her emotions).

“Hmmm,” he murmured, warm breath ghosting pleasantly across her face. He smiled that slight smile again - this time with his eyes, mouth solemn, and lowered his head to whisper in her ear: “I could say the same about you.”

Daenerys shivered at the sensation and allowed herself to be led away from the inn revelers around them and towards a back room that, once fully lighted by the whim of a whispered unfamiliar language, seemed far too grand for the commonness of the room they had only just left behind.

As the door closed softly, cutting them off from the rest of the people in the tavern, she knew she would get a silent earful from Grey Worm on their journey back. The man said little with his words, but his eyes and face spoke of much. He was similar to the Northern man that stood before her in that way.

Daenerys ran her fingers over the fine texture of a silken cloth that lay draped over a grand looking chair next to her and raised an eyebrow in question.

As if in answer, he walked silently over to her and slowly removed a small hair pin that laid decoratively between her interwoven plait. The metal object was solid gold and had a single row of precious jewels lining its body. He moved the pin directly into her eyesight, and very dramatically raised his eyebrow with an amused look on his face. The point was well taken and she turned away from him, disliking how off-balance he made her feel and yet completely enthralled by it.

She felt the heat of his body as he stood behind her and rested cool hands on her shoulders. Daenerys closed her eyes as naked fingers pulled loose the tied ribbon hanging underneath her chin, then slowly pulled the hood of her velvet cape down from her hair and slid the rest of the heavy material from her shoulders. This was madness and impossible she knew, but somehow it all felt so unquestionably right. Fated even. She hated the concept as much as he did (though he had never stopped to explain just _why_ he hated the idea quite so much during their last encounter). Long ago she’d concluded that destiny was for those who allowed the world to shape them as it saw fit. But she was Daenerys Targaryen, and she was a person who forged her own path. She shaped the world as  _she_ saw fit. And yet...

Was it madness to think she had dreamt of this man before she’d met him... seen his face only in shadow but knew it intimately all the same? 

Once the cloak fell away, he wrapped an arm around her chest, fingers cupping her shoulder, and the other around her stomach. Daenerys slid both palms over where his hand rested on her abdomen and bent her head, silently submitting to whatever this thing - this ... kismet was that drew the two of them together.

“The Children,” she started, gasping as his tongue laved hotly over the shell of her ear. “They’re real.”

The hand cupping her shoulder, lowered, cupping instead the underside of her breast, and squeezed.

“Leanbah,” he whispered softly into her ear.

“What,” she asked distractedly as his other hand moved lower to the juncture between her thighs.

“That is how we say Child of the Forest in our language.”

Daenerys felt her head sag backwards as his fingers began to slide along her fabric covered center, and she sighed, staring blankly up at the intricate patterns carved into the ceiling above her.

“ _Leanabah_ ,” she repeated, the word feeling over complicated and clumsy on her tongue.

His breath puffed warmly against the side of her neck as he laughed and planted an open mouthed kiss against the skin there. “Close enough.”

*****

When she was flying safely away on the back of Rhaegal, Grey Worm surprised her by raising his voice over the rush of the night air to say loudly into her ear, “There is more than one way to conquer a foreign land my queen.”

Daenerys didn’t acknowledge she’d heard his words or that they reaffirmed a suspicion she’d only just started formulating about the strange man’s identity, but smiled all the same as she squeezed her legs against the rough hewn texture of the saddle and clutched tightly at the leather reigns.

**Author's Note:**

> This was done as a Jonery Secret Santa gift for the super talented @ricknmaklan. I’m so sorry that this was posted late bb. I hope you enjoy it and just let me know if you’d like me to keep writing more or at least post a follow-up. I ran out of time with this one, but I had a lot of plot and storyline planned for our two lovers that kinda deserve to see the light of day lol.
> 
> Readers, pls chime in as well. This was a fantastic prompt and I have so many ideas of where to take this fic. Comments are very much appreciated and let me know if you’d like to read more in this universe.


End file.
